


Treasure Worth Seeking

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed - Valhalla
Genre: Alpha!Eivor, Biting, Breeding Kink, F/F, Fingering, Knotting, Omega!Randvi, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Sappy, Smut, Sweet, cheating (minor), from behind, going down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: As Randvi gouges the mossy stones of the watchtower with trembling fingers, rocking her hips against the firm slab of Eivor’s abdomen, her mind floats. What in the Nine Realms has driven her to do this? To betray her husband, her marriage vows, her own sense of honor—all for a quick rut amidst crumbling ruins?
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi, Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 614





	Treasure Worth Seeking

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Y'all knew it was only a matter of time before I posted this...
> 
> I'm @RaeDMagdon on tumblr and twitter. Please give me a follow!

As Randvi gouges the mossy stones of the watchtower with trembling fingers, rocking her hips against the firm slab of Eivor’s abdomen, her mind floats. What in the Nine Realms has driven her to do this? To betray her husband, her marriage vows, her own sense of honor—all for a quick rut amidst crumbling ruins?

Yet she is incapable of stopping. She cannot resist Eivor’s callused hands on her thighs, nor the hot breaths hitting the side of her neck. She wants this with every fiber of her being. Any restraint she might have possessed is leaking out from between her legs. She is little more than an animal now, whining into the crook of Eivor’s shoulder.

Worst of all, she initiated. She kissed Eivor first. The poor alpha had watched her all day with the moon in her eyes and an obvious tent in her trousers, but otherwise, she’d been perfectly polite. Accommodating, even, as she escorted Randvi from adventure to adventure, granting her the gift of an enjoyable day away from maps and pawns.

And how has she repaid Eivor’s kindness? By giving into her worst omega impulses and pumping out enough heat-scent to fell a god, let alone a mortal alpha. Randvi saw the conflict in Eivor’s gentle blue eyes, an obvious war between desire and guilt, but she hadn’t cared. Not this time.

_ Just once, _ she told herself, in that tenuous moment when her lips first brushed Eivor’s.  _ Once, as a reward for everything I have sacrificed. Every moment of life I have lived for others instead of myself. _ But once hadn’t been enough. She’d kissed Eivor again and again, until the alpha was a heavy, growling weight upon her, their naked bodies blazing despite the chill of the open air.

How can things possibly return to the way they were, now that she knows how Eivor’s blunt teeth feel nipping her pulse-point? How Eivor’s hands feel as they knead her breasts, cradling them with a strange mix of possessiveness and gentleness? Randvi  _ likes _ the possessiveness. The swirling scent of an alpha’s claim. Or perhaps it is only Eivor’s claim she craves.

She has never enjoyed the same from Sigurd. It is tolerable and nothing more. She is grateful—relieved, even—that she does not bear his mark.

At the mercy of Eivor’s touch, shuddering jolts pass through Randvi’s body. They are unlike anything she has ever experienced, but she isn’t afraid: merely hungry. She tears a hand away from the stones and fists Eivor’s messy braid, pulling their mouths together. Eivor’s lips crash against hers like lightning. Her fingers leave furrows of flame wherever they trace, and Randvi is thrilled to burn.

The seconds pass far too quickly. Before Randvi knows it, Eivor has kissed down her heaving chest and shivering stomach to settle between her legs.  _ Oh! _ That tongue is wicked indeed. How dare it be so soft and warm against her wet, open flesh? How does it drive her to further madness when she has already lost her grip on reality?

Randvi tosses her head, still clutching Eivor’s hair, digging her heels into the alpha’s lower back. Eivor’s silky tongue is marvelous, but it frustrates her as well, for it does nothing to ease the clawing emptiness inside—an emptiness she has never known before. For the first time, she isn’t merely able to accept an alpha’s knot, but  _ ready _ to do so _. _

_ This is the burning omega need bards sing of. The lust that drives mortals and gods alike to make fools of themselves. I understand now. _

Her new understanding brings no relief. Only Eivor’s soft growls of approval, partially muffled, offer any comfort. When Eivor’s lips seal around her clit, Randvi’s hips rise off the stones to rock in midair. She clenches, searching for fullness that isn’t there as liquid heat spills from her core. It runs over Eivor’s chin to drip down her own thighs.

Never has Randvi come so hard in her life—and yet, never has she felt so unsatisfied afterward, either. What horrible power Eivor has over her! The power to grant unimaginable pleasure while withholding even more. She blinks away tears, tossing her head to one side. Moss and grit rub against her cheek, but she hardly notices, so wrapped up is she in the steady flicks of Eivor’s tongue, which have not ceased or even slowed.

“Please,” she grunts, untangling her fingers from Eivor’s messy blonde hair to stroke it instead of pulling. “Inside. I need…”

Strong Eivor may be, but she is also incredibly malleable and obedient for an alpha. She flips Randvi over as though she weighs little more than a single sack of grain and mounts her, hitching her up onto elbows and knees. Randvi spreads her thighs and lifts her backside without shame. She needs this like she needs to breathe. There will be no more denial, no matter how guilty she feels later.

The tip of Eivor’s cock alone is thicker than Sigurd’s length. Randvi keens as it slides through her pussy, coaxing more slickness from the molten heat within her belly. She rocks back, hoping Eivor will push inside, but the alpha keeps her wanting. She chokes down a sob as Eivor’s cockhead nudges her clit, merely teasing.

“Inside,” she pants, wriggling with impatience beneath Eivor’s bulk. What a wanton sight she must make, naked and presenting in the middle of the wilderness, too desperate even to make a blanket of their discarded clothes upon the watchtower!

Some god or another must take pity on her, for Eivor answers her plea. The alpha’s fat cockhead lines up with her entrance and  _ pushes, _ causing stars to explode before her eyes. Randvi’s mouth falls open, but no sound follows. Eivor’s sheer girth has stolen her breath. Never in her life has she taken anything so wonderfully warm and thick.

The stretch is incredible, but the movement? Otherworldly. Randvi finds her voice as Eivor begins thrusting inside, carefully at first, but with clear intent. She means to stake her claim, no matter how gently she’s trying to go about it.

Randvi has no objections. There is no pain or discomfort, only pleasure. Pleasure that threatens to turn her inside out. She makes this known to Eivor with long, loud moans, rolling back into each push of those lean, powerful hips. As her vision blurs, she wonders whether this fevered rutting might actually be the death of her. If it is, she will die a satisfied omega.

Her eyes roll back completely as Eivor’s cock sinks in to the hilt. Rough hands rub light circles on her outer thighs, as though calming a skittish mare. Randvi needs no reassurance, but Eivor’s low, husky voice sends shivers down her spine anyway. “Am I hurting you?”

It takes all of Randvi’s remaining focus to answer, dazed as she is. Heat-madness has seized her in its unyielding grip, leaving her weak, trembling, and utterly compliant. “No, never.”

That’s all the reassurance Eivor needs. The alpha bends over Randvi’s back, grunting as the rut begins in earnest. Randvi’s trembles, whines, and squirms, but despite her best efforts to hurry things along, Eivor is in control. All she can do is squeeze her inner muscles. Milk the heavy shaft sliding in and out. Tears stream down her cheeks, running past the edges of her broad smile. She never wants this to end.

An ending comes upon her anyway, far sooner than she would like. Randvi’s second peak breaks like thunder, shaking her body with its booming force. She freezes, all four limbs trembling, every muscle strained to its limit. Only when Eivor’s tongue sweeps along her vulnerable neck does she relax, gushing wetness around the base of the alpha’s cock.

Eivor’s fingers fumble over Randvi’s clit, helping her along with soft circles, but she has already tumbled over the edge. She does not need the assistance. Torn between bucking forward into Eivor’s hand and rocking back against the alpha’s cock, Randvi finds herself trapped between two overwhelming forces. There is nothing to do but keep coming and tilt her head sideways in the hopes Eivor’s teeth might find her throat.

The thought should terrify her. Bites are permanent; the commitment of a lifetime. She and Sigurd have not bitten each other, because in the back of their minds, they both know they might wish to divorce some years down the line, once their clans have fully merged and their marital alliance is no longer necessary. Not to mention Sigurd’s immediate departure after their wedding for two cold, lonely years.

But the thought of Eivor’s bite isn’t frightening. It’s  _ tempting. _ Imagining Eivor’s teeth at her throat makes Randvi feel warm, safe, and happy in a way she cannot articulate even within her own mind. Eivor is so strong and honest and  _ good. _ Brave. Funny. Fascinating. Her presence bestows Randvi with boundless energy, while everyone else drains her reserves with their unending neediness.

Not to mention Eivor makes her cunt flow like the fastest of rivers.

“Bite me,” she says before she can think better of it. Soon, it becomes a chant. “Bite me, bite me,  _ bite me.” _

“No,” Eivor huffs, beginning her own low, rough mantra as her thrusts pick up speed again. “No, Randvi. No-no-no…” But her voice rises with unhinged need, and Randvi knows in her bones that Eivor is really saying ‘Yes’. Eivor wants the same thing she does. Eivor feels the same deep, undeniable longing that has ruled alphas and omegas since the dawn of humankind.

_ “Yes,” _ Randvi gasps.

On Eivor’s next thrust, something large and firm bumps against Randvi’s opening. Several inches of shaft are missing, and Randvi whimpers with disappointment. The base of Eivor’s cock has swelled into a heavy knot, and it’s already so huge that Randvi wonders whether it will fit at all. She grits her teeth and braces herself on the mossy stones, determined to  _ make _ it fit no matter how difficult. She is an omega, and she loves Eivor. She can do this.

“Randvi,” Eivor pants, grinding into her pussy with growing insistence. “Are you sure? My heart cannot bear the thought of hurting you even for a moment—”

“You will not hurt me,” Randvi growls, bearing down upon Eivor’s knot in an effort to accept its girth. “I trust you.”

Her simple declaration causes the final barrier between their bodies and souls to crumble. She relaxes. Eivor pushes. The knot pops inside with a loud, slick noise that makes Randvi’s clit twitch and her insides flutter. By the Gates of Asgard! Never has she been so full! 

Eivor holds still for a single heartbeat, an obvious attempt to help Randvi adjust, but she will have none of it. She re-establishes their rhythm by grinding back into Eivor’s pelvis, quivering as the thick knot shifts. It stretches her walls to their limit, but the intensity only makes Randvi clamp down harder. She wants to keep Eivor inside forever, even if it means the alpha cannot thrust as fast or deep.

“Fuck,” Eivor grunts, smearing kisses along Randvi’s damp neck. “You drive me insane, Randvi. I cannot resist you.”

The last thing Randvi wants is for Eivor to resist her alpha instincts. In fact, omega pride demands that she unleash them. Wild thoughts race through her mind. Thoughts of Eivor’s seed spilling inside her. Eivor’s litter growing in her belly. Eivor’s pups suckling at her breast. She has always objected to the notion that omegas are only good for breeding, but with Eivor, her natural role feels like so much more. The burden she was born with, the expectations that repulse her, are suddenly a source of inexplicable joy.

_ Were Eivor to become my mate, she would think no less of me for carrying her pups. She would regard me with pride, and in her eyes, I would be a drengr still. Just as brave. Just as smart. Just as capable. Yet she would never force the role upon me. _

“Fill me,” she pleads, casting the most persuasive look she can muster over her shoulder. Her eyes lock with Eivor’s, captivated by the wild blue flames within the alpha’s pale, blown irises.

A look of soft shock transforms Eivor’s face, as though she has been struck from behind. Taken by surprise. Her pelvis gives an unsteady jolt, followed by a sharp gasp. “Randvi,” she moans, but the battle is already lost. 

Randvi savors her victory as hot spurts of seed flood her core. She arches, tilting her head to offer Eivor her neck, but there is no bite. No claiming. Nevertheless, the last of Randvi’s shame dissolves, leaving her a being of pure longing. Nothing in this world, or any other, matters except the warm rush of Eivor’s come, with a thick knot to keep it inside where it belongs.

Her own release follows, no longer fiery bolts of lightning, but the crashing of sea waves upon the shore—rhythmic, ancient, and inescapable. She is swept away completely, with only Eivor’s strong, sure grip to keep her anchored. Eivor’s hands are hard and unyielding as steel, but also warm and welcoming. Her fingers leave bruises along the tops of Randvi’s thighs, but they are not the bruises she wants. They are not teeth breaking flesh to stake their claim.

In the grip of her own orgasm, delirious with pleasure and yet worlds away from true satisfaction, Randvi can wait no longer. Eivor is close, huffing hot breaths onto the back of her neck, nuzzling the tender place behind her ear, muttering sweet words Randvi’s mind cannot fully interpret. She loves this stupid, selfless alpha, and she  _ must _ leave proof of it on Eivor’s skin.

Randvi turns, craning her neck past the point of discomfort, and sinks her teeth into Eivor’s shoulder, the only flesh she can reach. It is not traditional. Bites are usually on the neck, and omegas rarely give them to alphas, at least not in her clan. But she has never been a traditionalist, and neither has Eivor. She groans deep in her throat as blood bursts around her teeth, flowing onto her tongue like the sweetest of meads.

Eivor goes rigid. Her hips still, as though temporarily frozen, but her cock empties in a powerful stream. She spills so hard and fast that Randvi’s lower belly swells to hold it all. Randvi’s heart overflows as well. This is everything she has ever desired, but never had the courage to claim for herself.  _ Eivor _ is everything. This moment, and this alpha.

“Randvi,” Eivor growls, falling into an even fiercer rut than before.  _ “Randvi.” _

Though Eivor is only moaning her name, Randvi knows what the alpha is asking. She releases her bitehold, though it almost kills her to do it, and offers her neck again. This time, Eivor does not hesitate. Blunt teeth break the skin of Randvi’s throat, and she ascends to a state of paradise she never knew was possible. Every beat of her heart resonates through her body, and the endless pulsing of her pussy around Eivor’s knot, milking still more seed, overwhelms her.

By the time their shared release fades, Randvi is finally content. She collapses forward onto the stones of the watchtower platform, a lazy smile of satisfaction spreading across her face. What they have done cannot be taken back, but she cannot summon the energy to care. 

_ I am happy. Actually happy. When was the last time I allowed myself the luxury of that feeling? _

Years, at least. Not since before her marriage. Sigurd is not a cruel mate, but he does not make her happy. Eivor does. Eivor makes her feel loved and appreciated. Eivor fills her in ways beyond the physical. And Randvi already knows that when she must inevitably return to her maps and pawns and the tedium of her life, remembering this moment will make her happy all over again.

“Randvi, are you crying?”

Eivor’s voice, low and full of concern, causes Randvi to realize that her cheeks are wet with tears. They come upon her softly and without warning, like a spring shower without any storm clouds. She sniffs, wiping her face on the forearm, but does not stop smiling. “Good tears, Eivor,” she whispers. “You did nothing wrong.  _ We _ did nothing wrong.”

“Others will disagree,” Eivor whispers, deliberately avoiding names.

“We did nothing wrong,” Randvi insists, for how could something so wonderful be wrong? She is more content than she can ever remember being, with Eivor’s warm, muscular weight pressing her into the stones, Eivor’s mark throbbing on her neck, and Eivor’s knot sealed safely inside her. “Something that feels like this cannot be wrong.”

Eivor brushes soft kisses along the column of Randvi’s throat, around the mark. “I should be ashamed, but…” 

“I know.”

They lapse into silence for a while, listening to the wind and their own shared, steady breathing. Randvi waits for the inevitable sinking of her heart. The fall from the cliff’s edge. The moment when courage and happiness desert her to make way for regret and self-loathing. But it never comes. Happiness remains, a warm glow within her heart.

“This is not how I dreamed of mating you,” Eivor confesses. “Out here in the elements. I imagined candles and cozy bedfurs…”

Randvi cannot hold back a laugh. “A romantic? Somehow, I am not surprised.” Perhaps a romantic is exactly who she needs. Someone who sees and celebrates the beauty before them rather than striving for distant, unattainable goals. Someone who considers her a treasure worth seeking. For no matter how far Eivor may roam, she always returns joyfully. That is all Randvi has ever wanted.

“I promise we will do this properly—”

Randvi laces her fingers through Eivor’s and brings the alpha’s large hand to her lips, a hand she hopes will always find rest within hers. She pauses a moment to admire the thin white scars upon Eivor’s knuckles. “I am done with propriety, Eivor, at least where it concerns you.”

This time, it is Eivor who laughs. She kisses Randvi’s temple, audibly inhaling the scent of her hair. “In that case, I love you. I have loved you a long while despite myself, and I cannot see myself stopping.”

“Stopping,” Randvi says, deliberately squeezing down around Eivor’s shaft, “is the last thing I want you to do.”

Eivor releases a surprised grunt, but takes the suggestion. She moves her hips again, slowly at first and with great care, as though worried she might cause overstimulation. Randvi sighs and allows it. There will be time later to show Eivor her own strength and endurance. For now, she is content to be treasured. That is more than enough.


End file.
